


How To Pick a Place

by ThanRein



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, Dark Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanRein/pseuds/ThanRein
Summary: He remembered the first time he met the man who absolutely destroyed his life. He remembered it like it happened just the day before. He could hear those first words clearly."The baby in there is halfway to becoming Batman."He also recalled his oh-so-clever response."What?"





	How To Pick a Place

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fairly certain there's supposed to be a disclaimer in here somewhere, so let's just pretend it's inserted in here, yeah?
> 
> Alrighty, so what you're about to see is a whole bunch of bullshit that I typed up and threw together between naps and food time, but let's try to enjoy it.
> 
> And I am most definitely gonna throw in at least two billion quotes and references in here, so let's see who can pick them out, yeah? In the name of science!

He remembered the first time he met the man who absolutely destroyed his life. He remembered it like it happened just the day before.

He was eight years old and rushing to the hospital with his mother and his sister and his brother-in-law. The car was being stained with the sharp scent of blood. Peter had a feeling that it was fine, that everything was okay. He learned to trust those feelings a long while ago with several of his older sibling’s pregnancies. Their mother, Cassandra, had those same feelings, too, but they had developed long before Peter was born, during the time Talia was in the womb, herself.

That didn’t stop Talia or her husband from not developing their own feelings about it. They’d likely be worried for every single pregnancy even if everything went as smoothly as both had, so far. It wasn’t something that Peter could really understand, not having that kind of feeling a parent would feel for their child. That was why he was confused and bored and irritated as he was dragged from the warm comforts of his bed and into the car at too early in the morning to speed to the hospital. 

“It’s going to be okay, Talia, just squeeze Joe’s hand through the contractions, okay?” Cassandra tried to comfort. Joe just swallowed nervously at the advice, but nodded his head encouragingly at his wife. All of them knew that his hand was going to be sore after all of this. It wasn’t uncommon for the significant others of the women giving birth to come out of it with the bones of their hands fractured or even broken. Peter found it funny that he’d never have to go through such a thing, but would get to see it happen all around him.

When they got to the hospital, they had rushed into one of the few hospital rooms that the doctors aware of the supernatural, of the Hales’ species, were able to run. They couldn’t exactly run to a normal doctor and risk Talia wolfing out and scaring the shit out of them. So there’s a special section in a normal hospital. That was to hold up the illusion that the Hales were normal. Cassandra’s own birth was done at home, and the entire town was talking about it for months, how the family was weird, too traditional, that they would be surprised if the baby lives longer than a few weeks. They waited anxiously for reports in the newspaper, saying that the newest Hale was dead. 

Peter wasn’t allowed into the room, but his mother was, as was Joe. That left the boy sitting in the hard plastic chairs out in the hall, just as bored and annoyed as he was in the car with added anger as his back started to become sore. He would think that a hospital would have furniture that was better for your back than this. Was this how they got more people to come in? The hospitals make a problem and then force you to give them outrageous amounts of money to fix said problem?

He jerked forward, startled out of his thought process by the screams of effort and pain from his sister. Judging from the few other humans in the same hallway, they could hear it, too. They gave a little wince toward the door right next to Peter. 

Peter did, too.

And that’s when he decided it was way too much effort to sit here and listen to yet another of his sisters wail out their misery. He had been forced to sit through his niece’s birth just a few months previous, hugged tightly to his grandmother’s chest as she cooed and daydreamed out loud about the new baby. His grandmother, a human, couldn’t hear the noises of pain through the thick doors, but they weren’t soundproofed the way Peter would need them to be. He could hear all of it.

So despite the slight urge he had to comfort his sister and his packmates, he left to wander the halls of the hospital aimlessly. He must have more entertaining things to do than sit through the fourth birth in only two years, right?

The walls were lined with pale pink and blue decoration, like ribbons hanging from the ceiling or outlines of normal baby stuff like rattles and shoes and what looked like ducks printed on the otherwise white paint. Nothing worthwhile to look at, in other words.

He peeked into rooms that had left their doors open. Most of them were empty or had cheerful families smiling and talking like every other open room, gushing as they were over the new baby and saying the same things. It was all very irritating and so very, very boring to eavesdrop on after the first six or so of the filled rooms, those feelings increasing with each room added to his tally.

Maybe another section of the hospital would be more entertaining? Perhaps he could get a nurse to show him one of the viewing rooms like he saw on the television once? He knew that that would be cool. He imagined seeing a complex surgery where they cut out someone’s heart for a replacement or had to take a tumour or cyst or whatever it was called out of someone’s brain. 

“Move!”

A nurse shoved him to the side of the hall to make way for a team of people crowding what he assumed to be a hospital bed with a mom in labor. He followed their path as they zipped down the hall with interest.

The emergency of the situation made another cool surgery scenario pop into his mind. What if it was an accident, like a car crash, and the person had like thirty broken bones? What if they were shot and the bullet’s damage had to be repaired before the guy bled out? What if they were stabbed and they had to rush to fix whatever the blade ripped apart?

Increasingly violent instances were flashing to life before being smothered by another. Peter knew that he shouldn’t be hoping for these terrible things to happen because that meant that someone was hurt, but it would be really cool to see the doctors saving someone’s life. The closer to death they were before being saved the more exciting, right?

Peter broke out of his trance when they turned a corner, unknowingly tracing the route he had just made, and disappeared out of sight.

He turned back around, resuming his trip away from Talia, Joe, and his mother. 

A short few minutes later, Peter came up with a dozen new situations and a sudden goal to become a surgeon before he noted the change in scenery. Gone were the maybe-ducks and the shoes and the rattles. In their place were wide glass panels, like windows. They were high; just high enough that Peter, who was on the short end of the growth chart for kids his age, had to stand on his tiptoes and hold onto the little edge of the window for balance in order to see clearly.

Babies. Lots of them.

Ew.

Peter screwed up his face before leaving, looking for a mmap or something that could show him where there weren’t any babies and where the viewing rooms were.

Hospitals had maps to help the visitors find their family, he knew. He had seen in in one of the other visits. Most of the time they were by a set of stairs or the elevators. This hospital was different. They had them at the information desks run by the nurses.

Oh. That would be a lot easier. If he asked the nurses where the viewing rooms were, they could just bring him there instead of him wasting time wandering around. 

Peter looked around briefly before spotting a passing woman in scrubs. She was writing on a clipboard with a bright pink, glittery pen furiously. The pen was a shade or two off from matching her fake nails perfectly.

“Excuse me!” he called, snagging her sleeve as she passed him.

“What? Oh, hello, sweetie! What do you need?”

Her voice was high and somewhat nasally. It grated on his ears a bit to listen to it. He sighed internally but activated his “poor, confused child” look that made his mom soften at the edges and give into his charms, no matter how much it inconvenienced her. He was gonna get to those viewing rooms.

“Can you help me? I don’t know where I’m going.” He made sure to do the face. The face was his ticket.

He hid a smile as he saw her melt

“Aww, sweetie! No problem. Where are your parents?”

“My sister is having a baby right now, but-”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. I’m actually heading there right now. We’re basically right there! Good thing you asked me for directions ‘cause you were going in the wrong direction,” she babbled, grabbing his hand and leading him to the place he was trying to escape. “My name’s Nurse Becka, sweetie. What’s yours?”

He hasn’t decided if he hated her or if what he was feeling was just a really strong dislike.

“Peter Hale, but-”

“Oh, fantastic! Your sister is Talia, right? I’m actually filling out her chart right now! I know right where you have to be, but you can’t go into the room, okay?” They turned the corner that the hospital bed and flown around. “You’re going to have to sit in one of the chairs outside until they let you in, okay, sweetie?” she chirped.

She chattered mindlessly all the way down the hall, bringing him back to those initial feelings of boredom and irritation. 

“Here we are, sweetie! Why don’t you sit down in one of these chairs? Oh, look! Why don’t you talk to the other boy! You two can be friends!” she cheered, pushing him down in the original chair he was in before. The only difference was that the chair that was next to him, previously empty, now had a boy sitting in it a few years older than him.

She made the idea of making friends, specifically talking to new people who were likely just as reluctant to talk to him as he was to them, sound a lot better than what past experience told him.

One of the doors across the hall flew open and a male nurse popped his head out. “Stevens! Get in here!”

Nurse Becka looked strangely serious with her too-bright make-up and bleached hair as her face smoothed out into a look of determination before she ran into the room, leaving Peter in an awkward silence with the other boy.

He wasn’t all that willing to wander off a second time. He wasted too many minutes being led back and forth by that awful nurse that he has decided he hated. But there was the boy here, a smudge of dark clothing in the middle of white and pastel walls.

So Peter, being the shameless being that he was, flat-out stared at him, looking him up and down. The boy was wearing a black t-shirt, a dark green jacket a size or two too big, and ripped blue jeans. His boots were caked in mud and his clothing was smeared with it. It was muddled by the overwhelming scents the hospital had, but Peter could still detect the earthy tones.

He looked at the boy’s fae only briefly, because that’s when he made eye-contact. He wished he didn’t. It was like looking his father in the eyes; he was smothered with the feeling that he was caught doing something horribly wrong. What made it worse was that the boy maintained this contact, bright green eyes never leaving from Peter’s blue.

“The baby in there is halfway to becoming Batman,” he said, breaking their gaze and nodding toward the room Nurse Becka had vanished into.

“What?”

“What?” the boy echoed, turning those too-green eyes right back on him.

“Uh…” Peter had no idea how to respond to this. This was something he never had to deal with before. Maybe he should just go back to staring at the wall; he knew how to do that easily.

“His mom was bleeding a lot. Hemorrhage, or something. Those don’t usually go all that well, now do they?”

How would Peter know something like that? He said as much to the boy.

He shrugged as he said, “I don’t know. Maybe you read a lot. My brother, Sammy, likes to read a whole bunch and then tell me all of it like he’s going to remember it after he gets a new book.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, looking away as soon as the boy did. “None of my siblings really like to read all that much. Most of them have jobs in the family business. Lawyers, most of them.”

“Yeah?” The boy raised an eyebrow smoothly- Peter wished he could do that- and gave an interested head tilt as he turned to face Peter more.

“Yeah.” He felt emboldened by the boy’s curiosity. It meant that he wasn’t as boring as the walls around them nor were they preferable to talking with him. But now he had no idea where to go with the conversation. He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t know what would keep the boy interested in him. Wait, why did this boy matter so much? Right, he was his only form of entertainment. What could he-

“What’s your name? I can’t just keep thinking of you as blue-eyes,” Dean asked, a small smile twisting his mouth. It looked easy on him, like his face was made to have that expression.

“Peter, Peter Hale.” Then, like an old man, he held his hand out for the boy to shake.

That smile grew into a smirk and it made Peter’s gut twist in regret. But then the boy took it in a firm grip and moved their hands in a single motion.

“My name’s Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are! The end of the chapter! Excellent. I love it when we do that. Let's keep doing that, yeah?


End file.
